


The Whims of the Commander

by StormWildcat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 21:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10395969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormWildcat/pseuds/StormWildcat
Summary: Usually the Commander is a private man; doesn't take unnecessary risks when it comes to his personal life with Inquisitor Trevelyan. But sometimes the desire is just too much to ignore. Belts come undone, lips loosen and Cullen takes what he wants; the Lion becomes shameless.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm playing DA:I for the first time and of course I've found my aesthetic. Hope you enjoy my attempt at some raunchy Cullen and the lady Inquisitor Trevelyan!

From the outside, Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford seems fairly tame. Authoritative with troops, willing to stand up for what he believes is right and a touch awkward in social situation that rally around personal affairs, specifically when it comes to women. However he’s much more multi-faceted than he’d have anyone believe. After getting closer to her advisor, Inquisitor Trevelyan unearthed the more caring, family-oriented side he kept hidden away. Then the part of him that was fighting an addiction so overwhelming that it nearly forced him to give up his position as Commander appeared. Beyond that, a romantic version of the Ex-Templar appeared that not many would ever expect; it even seemed to surprise Cullen himself. When it seemed that she knew everything there was about the quiet, poised man, she learned fairly quickly that those were apparently the ones a bit more on the rambunctious end of the intimacy spectrum.

Their first close physical encounter started surprisingly enough on Cullen’s desk and ended in his loft. One or two more private meetings began like this between more traditional romps in either partner’s bed. Most of the time these were sparked by entire days of side glances, barely-there touches or too much distance between the couple for too long. On a particularly curious night, the Commander brought some soft rope to the bedroom, requesting his love have her way with him, make him beg for mercy. Teasing and sweet torture drew animalistic growls from his chest and throat; they were not pleas for help. Rather they were demands she release him, then and there, so he could put his hands and mouth all over her and take the woman in a way she’d never felt before. Shocked would not be a strong enough word to describe the Herald’s reaction. Yet she could not go against her Commander. Who was she to deny such a tempting direct order anyway? Cullen was cut loose, and the following day, a few of her comrades could not help but notice a peculiar limp to her stride. 

No matter how many times they’d met to quench their thirsts for each other, even at their most desperate, it was always in a secure space, behind closed, heavy, solid wood doors with iron hinges and hefty locks to keep out unwanted guests. When their relationship began he wanted to keep it as private as possible, and he’d meant it. Threat of visitors was near zero always, but even if it wasn’t, no one dared disturb either Inquisition figurehead late at night without extreme cause. Their privacy was always ensured.

Except this time.

Night had fallen, the moonlight starting to trickle through the immense windows of the war room. Azure eyes scanned the ornate table and its maps, trying to find answer that never promised to announce themselves. Only a random crackling from the fireplace and the consistent, anxious scuffing of Cullen’s pacing steps played as white noise to endless stratagem and ally conquests. 

Maybe send a few soldiers to protect an Orlais noble? This could secure an alliance with them if all goes well. The Commanders boots were returning from the opposite end of the room again.

Perhaps Leiliana was right and a spies hand and ears were needed in Fereldan. The baron certainly has a few secrets that could prove useful. The bottom log in the fire popped under the heat. 

Are there enough allies to assure them victory? Or were more pacts needed? Steps were coming closer again.

Josephine had some paperwork ready and could be sent immediately. Might be worth it to try. The fire continued to punctuate thoughts and worries. But the boots and rustling stopped. Right behind her.

Before the next contemplation cold charge its way through the muddled mess that was her brain, a touch at her hip called the rogue back to reality. This hand on her was familiar, strong and yet bore a certain light, commanding presence that softly, boldly craved her full attention. The thin line that had settled where her mouth had been broke into an amused smirk. 

“Thought of something, Cullen?”

“Why yes, as a matter of fact I have,” the Commander’s low voice answered, warm breath on the sensitive lobe of her ear. She could feel his body inching closer by the second. Where his mind had wandered was fairly obvious, but this was an opportunity to push Cullen’s resolve, to tease him, and she couldn’t possibly pass it up.

“Would it be something benefitting our cause or answering all those questions and concerns Josephine and Leiliana left us with earlier?” It was difficult to ignore the second hand resting brazenly on her thigh.

“Well…no, not exactly,” Cullen’s confidence waivered at the feigned sincerity of the retort, but to his credit, that no longer bested him like it used to. Swagger returned to his tone. “But I think you might still be interested nonetheless.”

Eyebrows rose up on her face out of the blonde’s view. Silently she commended his recovery. Enjoying the Commander’s shameless touch and offer, she implored, “Tell me then, what’s on your mind?”

Fingers squeezed at the Trevelyan noble. “You. That’s what’s on my mind. You..” he nipped her neck, “me…” another to her jaw before a possessive bite clamped onto her ear, his voice becoming a low growl, “and this war table.” Body drenched in need, Cullen pressed himself against the woman before him, pinning her between paper-covered solid wood and wanton flesh aching beneath cloth and carefully crafted armor. Whether it was the daring picture he painted or their extreme proximity, he relished the fact he was able to force her breath to hitch. 

Funny how a few suggestive words and movements can shred stress-ridden brainwave attacks until they were no longer recognizable. How the whole atmosphere can transform along with the people in it. Strategies of war and Intel-gathering theories gave way to the heavy breaths, gentle strokes and brave lips on the physical plane. Exceedingly willing to let the ex-Templar continue, she allowed her back to mold and align to Cullen’s stomach and chest. Blind hands reached up to search out a strong neck to grab onto as the Herald grinned. “My, my Commander, I believe that statement can be taken as highly inappropriate. Surely you don’t mean to follow through here and now.” Cullen was many things and could have an erotic streak in his own right, but to carry out such an act in the war room? A place where the other advisors could easily return at any moment? No. Surely this would lead the couple on an uncomfortable venture back to her chambers, giggling and stealing chaste kisses and quick touches where they could until they were safe and alone behind her locked door. There was no way…

The lips that had claimed a spot on her neck peeled back into a wolfish grin. “Oh on the contrary, darling…” a sudden and surprising display of power and speed paired with a hefty shift in weight left the Inquisitor bent over the war table before him, ready to be claimed, just the way he’d envisioned.

A bass, predatory growl escaped as he finished his declaration, “That’s exactly what I mean.”

Hungry fingers work quickly, whether their master craves food, victory or the touch of delicious flesh. Years of sword training and dressing in cumbersome metal fashions gave his hands strength and dexterity beyond that of many men his age. True their first few stolen nights of passion were extended by clumsy fumbles with buttons and nervous, jittery laughter. But like the motto of the training field, practice makes perfect. Clasps and other notions were no match for Cullen now, especially those he’d become so very familiar with. 

Most days his digits like to take their time, slowly disrobing his love, building the anticipation of skin on skin and ultimate intimacy, allowing his eyes a glorious feast before they would find themselves half-lidded or closed while he lost himself to pleasure. Not this time. This time the Commander’s desires were too demanding, too great to be kept waiting for the slick warmth that lay hidden under belting and fabric. Quick work was made of the Inquisitor’s slacks, fasteners of any kind torn undone the garment hastily peeled down as far as mid-calf boots would allow. Face level with the target of his lust, Cullen found himself distracted, thrown from his dedicated path. Licentious hands abandoned the already forgotten linen and indulged in toned rear and thighs. His mouth salivated. 

A staggered gasp whipped over the woman’s tongue as another treated itself to her most sensitive and protected inches. Body fully resting over the side of the serious war table, the Inquisition figurehead found herself at the complete mercy of their Commander, hopeless and devoid of the ability to or will to escape his reckless whims. Open lips tried to protest, remind him of where they were, but nothing more than pleasured noise would pass between them. Crystalline eyes, heavy-lidded, were half-focused on the Fereldan and Orlais borders carefully scrawled in ink on aged maps. Somewhere between the bites roughly delivered to her inner thighs (along with a rogue one making her right cheek tense and tingle) and the unapologetic licks against her rapidly heating entrance, she finally managed to find her words of warning against Cullen’s drastic actions.

“Hnngh, Cull…shouldn’t we…go somewhere else? Nngh!” A rumbling snarl vibrated against her, making her knees buckle. Only reason she stayed upright was because her lover wouldn’t allow her to fall or fold.

“No time. I need you now.” Words final and swiftly muffled by the speaker diving back between the legs before him, the Inquisitor resigned herself to her luscious fate. There was no point in arguing. Once Cullen Rutherford’s mind was made, that was it, end of story. Particularly if he felt passionate enough about it. Judging by the fervent laps at her and the hands like vices at the place where legs connected to torso, there would be no convincing him otherwise. 

But how unlike the ex-Templar to be so impulsive. Devil-may-care had never been in his character before. Certainly there were times where he’d risk a glance across a meal shared with the others, maybe a few daring words voicelessly mouthing a promise of a busy night during a long council meeting. Time or two brought a feisty grip around her hip or a playful pinch to a thigh or lower cheek when they were safe in a shadowed placed or in the precious seconds when eyes were not upon them. Despite these rare moments of cheeky confidence, it wasn’t like Cullen to gamble the undeniable embarrassment of being caught during the heat of the moment. Yet he wasn’t’ shy this time. At all. Oblivious to the enormous unlocked entrance and nagging subconscious reminder that the other two advisors could return at any given moment, Cullen knew only what he yearned and nothing else. He would have it. She would supply him willingly.

Soundly defeated, Trevelyan silenced her disquiet, allowing only the notes of pleasure orchestrated by her man’s working tongue and wandering hands. Arching her back, she opened herself up to a determined mouth as much as their positioning could possibly allow. An appreciative groan coupled with a rigorous lashing from the flat of his tongue and subtle scratch of facial stubble against the inside of her legs pulled a throaty sigh from her lungs. 

Slender fingers clawed in vain at the smooth surface beneath the pleasured woman, searching for something, anything, to dig into. Maps shifted and wrinkled, pieces representing power plays and missions toppled and skittered away from the marks. No doubt if the ravenous Cullen manhandled her into facing him, her hands would bury themselves in the thick fur of him shoulder mantle and wavy blonde locks. Instead her grip traveled aimlessly as she could feel herself start to cave in from the onslaught at her arousal. 

Before long the graceful, confident Inquisitor Trevelyan melted into a writhing mess. As she fell prey to Cullen’s consistent lapping, her hips back to buck against him. This insolent reflex pushed him away from his meal; he couldn’t allow her involuntary jerks and grinds to delay her finish..and the preparation for his turn. A 180 degree turn and repositioning landed him at her front, the top of his head pressed against the bottom of the war table, the tree-like stand scraping along his back. Silently the ex-Templar vowed to continue his attack until his prize had been won, turned into a quivering mess and undeniable prepped for him to indulge fully in his victory celebration.

He growled in a deadly mix between pride and delight as ecstasy took over the Herald of Andraste; the shrine of bare skin and tense muscle housing him twitched and jerked as climax took its hold. He hugged her close to him, carefully tasting the ultimate fruit of his labors as his love came down from her finish. A guttural moan made her flinch. “Maker you taste more delicious every time, love.”

Trevelyan merely sighed; a lazy smile stretched her face until it was interrupted by unforgiving tabletop. Shifting beneath her could not rouse her to move from where she lay, legs still spread and barely stable enough to support the little weight demanded of them.

Cullen climbed to his feet and admired his mouth’s handiwork, a pleased smirk tilting a corner of his swollen lips. He hadn’t planned on the vigorous foreplay when he had first pinned her to the focus point of the war room, but once he’d knelt down behind her, the erotic, familiar perfume of her excitement ignited by his aggressive advances called too loudly for him to ignore. Who could blame him for ad-libbing? Besides, he’d come to thoroughly enjoy putting his tongue to good use on his love. Watching her writhe as pressure from her clenching legs threatened his neck and shoulders. The sight, the sounds, taste, scents, it was all magnificent and left him crawling to her whim on more than one amorous occasion. 

Part of him, somewhere in the back of his mind, he wished to just pull the recovering woman into his arms and kiss her until she could stand sure again. But this was not the time for that. The Lion ached, his own arousal trapped painfully in linens and numerous belts. They had fit so comfortably that morning, but now they nearly made him whimper. They need to be removed, he needed to be free.

And he needed to be inside her.

Rustling of fabric and light clanging of metal rescued the Inquisitor from her satisfied stupor. She stirred at the sounds but was stilled once more by Cullen’s form. This time her skin absorbed the heat of toned flesh instead of coarse fabric. Familiar yet surprising. Light azure eyes shot to the doors as the unmistakable hotness of his excitement teased the swell of her folds. Teeth bit at her ear. “I hope you don’t think I’m done with you just yet, darling.” His words were ragged, ripped with raw desire. For her. The eluded promise was more than enough to flip her back into an eager provider of pleasure for him. But he didn’t stop there. 

Gloved fingers splayed between her shoulder blades, he firmly coaxed the noble flat against the war table once again. A small readjustment on her end and small, booted feet on tiptoe positioned her just right for the Commander to take full charge of her body. A gratified tongue flicked across still ravenous, scarred lips. 

Aligned in almost record time, he pushed himself into her, a low groan of relief reverberating in his chest as her rekindled core welcomed his arrival with fervor. Muscle contracted around his length, coating every inch with her sex. She always felt inviting, amazing. But this was different. Perhaps it was the intense opening act. The risks they were taking with their choice of setting. Or his primal, lustful state. Whatever it was, she felt absolutely mind-blowing. Any thoughts he had shattered into millions of insignificant pieces and were lost on the salacious gusts that whipped through his mind. 

Immediately his hips set to work, advancing and retreating to a note-less beat set by the lecherous itch that had spread throughout the Commander’s war-sculpted body. Each thrust summoned a harsher breath from his chest and a pointed mewl from his partner. Running with the forbidden theme of their evening, he allowed his usual filter to fall apart and his mouth to loosen.

“Aah, Maker yes…” he began, grip on the curved waist of his Inquisitor tightening. 

“C…Cull…ennn,” his lover managed to ground out with a clenched jaw. 

“Do you like this, darling? When I..nngh…take you…like this?” The former Templar’s hips called upon their most sensual range of movement, rolling forward and angling himself in a subtlety different way inside the lady Trevelyan, conducting a new chorus of wanton notes and lyrics from her lips.

“Ooo, yes Cullen. That……ahh…M-Maker…” She barely choked back a curse as his tempo accelerated.

Teeth biting into his lower lip, Cullen gave into a darker side of himself. One that wanted to hear more about how good he made her feel. How he struck all the right chords. That she need him as badly and deeply as he yearned for her. He slipped into a form of self that felt no shame in baser needs. “Come now, love, tell me…I know, mmm, how skilled you are with your words.”

Between the thrill of the night and the electricity shooting through her with every thrust, the Herald suspected her mouth had turned to cotton and her tongue hand numbed beyond recovery. But the gruff implore of the normally subdued and romantic Cullen was enough to revive her. “Aah, Cullen…you..are amazing. I can’t…handle…it,” she whined.

Another grumble vibrated in his throat. “How about this then?” Thick-fingered hands gripped her under her legs, disconnecting her from the ground entirely and permitting him ultimate access. One solid snap of her hips from this new position tore a divine cry from his mate. He paused to revel in it. “Ooo, so we like that do we? Well then, I won’t hold back” The pledge erupted from him as a primitive roar that shot a child down the Inquisitor’s spine. It also served as the incantation that released Cullen’s primeval persona. Pure power and hunger energized each plunge he took into her, turning the couple into noisy, wordy messes.

“Aah…haah…yes…you like that, darling?”

“Yes! Yes, oh Maker yes! Don’t stop. Aaaah, f-fuck…just like that Cullen.”

Another deep, animalistic sound escaped the Commander. “Fuck, you sound so delicious when you talk like that. So naughty…it makes me crazy!” Movements picked up speed and strength.

“Aah! Fuck, Cullen….yes, harder Cullen! F-Fuck me just like that.”

“You want me to fuck you like this, love? You like this? When I take you…grrh…like…aah..an animal?”

“Yes,” she breathlessly panted.

Cullen rumbled, “Bent over like this?”

“Aa-h, yes!”

“Harder? Deeper? Faster, love?”

“Yes, oh fuck, Cull, YES!”

Contractions quivered around the Commander’s arousal. “Are you ready to come for me?”

Fingers clawed for the other end of the war table, hoping to claim anchor. “Oh yes…all for you, love.”

“Mmm then come with me,” the order was ragged and hoarse. Desperate. Authoritative. “Come with me!”

“Aah…Cull…I…I-!”

“Rrrr-aah!”

Climax hit the pair like a trebuchet round; heavy, hard and incredibly forceful. Clenched like a vice and penetrated to the hilt, the Herald twitched and convulsed as ecstasy crashed down upon her. In turn the Commander’s spine went rigid, every pent up ounce rushing from him. Relief washed over him and almost forced him to a boneless heap on the ground.

Minutes seemed to tick by before either’s heart and breath slowed enough to allow conversation. Cullen recovered slightly faster; a silver lining to years on the battlefield. “Are you alright, my dear?”

A lazy nod and clumsy grin was his answer. A chuckle shook his sore muscles and joints. He’d found refuge lying with his back on the table, war room air cooling his sex-saturated length. Mind clearing and usual temperament returning, Cullen’s words were somewhat shaky, shocked by his performance. “Wow. That was…um-“

“Amazing. The word you’re looking for is “amazing”, love,” his other half finally roused.

“Well, yes. Absolutely. But also not very…well…it was out of character for me, you know. I mean of course you know. I only do this sort of act with you, but I’m normally more-mm!”

Nervous ramblings are always cut short by sudden kisses. This stressful speech was no exception. A satisfied, reassuring smile greeted the blonde when he opened his eyes. 

“Romantic? Traditional? Private?”

“You’ve seemed to have taken to finishing my sentences for me.”

“Heheh, shush.”

“Don’t think I like that too much.”

“Cullen.”

The couple embraced, sharing a few more chaste kisses while they waited for their shared giggle fit to pass.

“Come on. Before we get caught literally with our pants down.”

“Alright.”

Shaky legs righted them and weak hands clothed them after cleaning themselves the best they could manage. Before vacating for the night, deciding any attempts to work would be fruitless, Cullen shyly asked, “So…you really enjoyed that, darling?”

The Inquisitor froze in her tracks, pausing at the doors. “Cullen, not only did I enjoy that…” a deceivingly strong pull from the smaller of the two whipped the ex-Templar into the double doors, stunning him. Teasing lips were millimeters from his own. “I impatiently await the day you evolved into a greedy, hungry lion again. Or if you’d prefer, perhaps I’ll take a bite out of you instead.” The offer was sealed with a nip to his scarred lip. 

A weak whine hissed from the Commander. “Oh Maker, this is far too soon to be getting me riled up again, darling.”

Appeased by the answer, she winked. “Another time, love. When we’re both aching for something decadent and sinful.”

A devilish smirk painted across the man’s face. “Yes, ma’am.”

Training grounds were lively the following day, a cacophony of swords clashing, armor shifting and orders barked with more confined and gusto than usual washed over Skyhold. The Lion stood tall amongst his troops, a watchful eye and stern roar geared towards his pride. He only stopped to greet a few out-of-place voices.

“Commander”

“Josephine? Leiliana! What a surprise. I thought you were handling missions from the Inquisitor.”

“Oh we are, Cullen. However we’re being summoned to a council,” the trade extraordinaire explained. “We’re here to collect you.”

“Ah, understood.” The war leader turned back to his troops. “Keep it up, men! For the Inquisition!”

“RAAH!” his battalion answered, each pushing themselves even harder.

“My, my. Quite a command you have over your men today,” Josephine commented with a smile.

This made Cullen’s eyebrow arch. “Don’t I always? I am the Commander, after all.” 

“Of course, you do. However today you seem more…passionate. Even aggressive,” Leiliana added.

The slightest hint of blush tinted Cullen’s cheeks. “Ah well, I suppose I just woke up on the right side of the bed this morning. Rejuvenated, refreshed. Ready to take on the day and it’s challenges!” 

Leiliana smiled softly. Josephine grinned.

Cullen was uncomfortable. “Anyway, any clue what the summons is about?”

“The Inquisitor believes she has a mission for you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, she says you’re the only one for the job,” Josephine added to the spymaster’s reveal.

“Well then, I won’t hold back!”

Muffled laughter caught the blonde off guard. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh…n-nothing Cullen,” Josephine recovered…poorly.

“We know that when it comes to performing for the Inquisitor, you hold nothing back,” the hooded redhead explained.

The Commander’s steps ceased. “What did you say, Leiliana?”

“Nothing.”   
  


“No “nothing. You said-!”

“Is it not true that you’d give your all to the Inquisition, Commander?” Josephine tagged in.

“But that’s not what she said!”

“Of course it is!”

“Josie, I know what I heard-“

“Come on, we don’t want to keep the Inquisitor waiting, do we?!”

“Hey! WAIT! GET BACK HERE!” Cullen commanded of the two rebellious advisors as they rushed away. He stood for a moment, burying his blushing face in his gloved hands. “Maker’s breath.”


End file.
